


chroma

by happy_tokki



Series: shinee fics: re-vamped [2]
Category: SHINee
Genre: College AU, Falling In Love, M/M, colour metaphors/similes, fluff mostly, kibum cameo if u squint, painting analogies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-19 00:48:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29866626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happy_tokki/pseuds/happy_tokki
Summary: Life is a painting we all colour. And Minho's life is a canvas of constantly changing hues, all thanks to one person.
Relationships: Choi Minho/Lee Taemin
Series: shinee fics: re-vamped [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2195805
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	chroma

**Author's Note:**

> hi! if this fic looks familiar, it's bc i posted it previously on a different platform ^^ as per someone's request, i'm re-posting some of my old shinee fics. so most of them are from a long time ago, with a lil tweaking bc I proofread them again to make sure.

_Grey._

That described Choi Minho's life before Taemin wormed his way into it. It wasn't extreme, dotted all over in black, nor was it a completely blank stretch of white. It was somewhere in between, somewhere contently balanced, and Minho didn't mind.

Yet it felt kind of dull, a bit monotone.

○○○

_Yellow._

The first time he meets _Lee Taemin_ , Minho's world sees its first splash of colour. The younger boy's appearance into his life is spontaneous, worlds colliding as Minho is leaving a building after a very yawn-inducing lecture.

Quite literally.

A freshman, lost and _quite_ late for a class, scrambles forward, not really watching his direction, and crashes head-first into Minho. It effectively knocks any sleep out of him.

"Sorry," he blurts, a beat after Minho reflexively catches him. It would be cliché, if only he wasn’t so puzzled, and Minho didn’t have drool on his hoodie.

" _Please_ watch where you're going," the he grumbles at the freshman, and is answered with a sheepish laugh and bright, _bright_ eyes.

Minho would give him a stony look, but the boy beats him to it with a _smile_ instead—a small curve of mouth that catches him by surprise, melts him just a bit.

"I'm Taemin, by the way."

And as he hurries away, Minho cannot help but stare a little.

Their first meeting is spontaneous, yes, and quite fluorescently cheerful.

○○○

_Orange._

It is a Thursday afternoon, and Minho is doing what most people in his photography class is doing—freaking out over an assignment that he pushed back until he has a mere week to cook something up. But, he reasons, it is always smarter to have his little crisis in the shade of a tree, rather than the obnoxiously sunny campus grounds it grows from.

"Kibum-hyung won't believe me when I say that more coconuts have killed people than sharks have," a voice quips from his right, accentuated with an exasperated huff, "Can you believe him?"

Minho doesn't know how to answer that, and he hadn't the slightest clue whom 'Kibum' is, but he nods anyway. The mumbling, oddly familiar blond boy settled next to him is warm around his edges, and it puts him into a daze. Taemin continues to blabber away, oblivious to how the dull canvas known as Minho's life receives another streak of colour.

Their second meeting is no less abrupt than their first, but it has an undertone of familiar warmth that makes Minho smile.

○○○

_Silver._

Despite an impressive amount of social circles Minho clicks into, Taemin is easily the most fascinating person—to him, at least. His laugh is contagious and soft and tuneful; the tinkling of tiny silver bells.

It doesn't help that, as days go by, the other boy’s jewel-like prettiness increases. Minho has the silly question in the back of his head— _are you sure you’re not some ethereal being, here with the mortals by pure accident?_

Taemin is simply precious; he dusts Minho’s life with glimmery, sparkly feelings.

○○○

_Pink._

Being around Taemin is pink, Minho supposes. Soft, baby-pink like the cotton-candy they'd once shared. Dark, mysterious pink like the roses Minho had once impulsively gifted him—he still cannot fathom the reason for those actions. Or even the coral-pink he sometimes finds himself eyeing—lips, _Taemin’s lips_ , reddened and candy-like. The annoying voice in his brain is back again, wickedly questioning if they _taste_ like they are coated with sugar too.

(Minho doesn’t dare ask.)

Everything about spending a day with Taemin reminds him of _pink_. Of falling in love for the first time, of silent and gentle reassurance.

Taemin’s presence makes the world look a little rosier in hue.

○○○

_Green._

He could never have predicted the dark bottle-green that glazes his vision, when he sees someone get a little too comfortable with Taemin—a hand on his waist, the flirty poke at his shoulder. This green, murky and hostile, isn't the prettiest addition to the canvas, and he hopes it doesn’t resurface again.

Who is he to have a say in Taemin’s blind dates, or who to accept love letters from, or who to keep distance from? Minho is his friend, not some overbearing lover.

_Oh._

Minho doesn't _want_ anybody to hold Taemin like he does, but he denies it, choosing to see through green instead.

○○○

_Blue._

Realisation simply dawns on him one day as he finds his hand inching closer to Taemin’s, despite the need to finish an essay in roughly three hours.

 _Hold hands_ , his brain whines, awfully bratty.

There’s blue mist around him, swirling around him the dreadful possibility of having fallen—fallen for the little burst of happiness that had waltzed into his life, fallen for Taemin. Against his efforts to stay calm, the cloud of gloom above his head grows thicker each day.

How could he do this to Taemin? The younger was his _friend_ —how _dare_ Minho betray their friendship like this?

And with each time he glances at Taemin, his heartbeat dances a tad faster.

The blues on the canvas are more frequent, tinging nearly every other colour along the way.

○○○

_Grey, once more._

When Minho decides to confess to Taemin, he glimpses the colour in his life trying to trickle away.

The confused look that crosses the other's eyes is frightening, and Minho readies himself to let go once and for all.

Minho’s heart is a stained-glass mosaic of many feelings, he’d come prepared to let go of such vibrant shades, even if it leaves him in shattered little pieces.

○○○

_Brown._

Chestnut-brown, like the warmth that floods Taemin's face as he finally seems to process the older boy's words.

Chocolate-brown. Filled with sugar, like the smile directed his way afterwards.

 _Cinnamon_ -brown. Like the sweet uncertainty in his voice when he _accepts_ , and this time reaches out for Minho’s hand.

○○○

_Purple._

It is during a date at a coffee-shop. When they are talking about how nice the jam-filled pastries were. When their hands rest intertwined on the table.

Minho remembers it much too well—each and every detail.

Maybe it is how close they are sitting. Maybe it is their interlaced fingers. Maybe it is how Taemin's mocha-brown eyes keep flitting down, a quick glance at Minho’s lips.

But when Taemin leans up slightly to peck those lips, to steal away _their_ first kiss... Minho sees purple. Blindingly bright bursts of _purple_ everywhere.

But that doesn't stop him from kissing back.

○○○

_Red._

Surprisingly, Minho can't remember the first time he says those three little words to Taemin, nor can he remember the first time Taemin had says them back.

But _every_ time, strokes of red glide smoothly across the canvas.

Red, like the collar of his shirt, that get tugged on to pull him closer.

Red, like their lips after a lingering kiss.

Red, like the flush that appeared in Taemin's cheeks as Minho pecked his forehead tenderly.

"I love you, Taem."

Red—passionate and raw as always—like his love for _Taemin_.

"I love you too.”

Red... like the colour the younger paints Minho's world with, unknowingly, obliviously.

Taemin is the reason that the canvas known as Minho's life never stays the same colour—and Minho wouldn't have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> after re-reading most of my old fics,,, i only found v few of them that i'm not embarrassed to post ^^;;; this is one of them. i hope u enjoyed, dear reader


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